Belladonna
by Marguerite1
Summary: Josh leads everyone to the Mess in more ways than one after "The Drop-In."


**Belladonna**

Classification: Fluff. Post-ep for "The Drop In," Toby POV, J/D UST 

Summary: And so it was that Josh, as always, led us to the Mess.   


***   
Nobody wanted to discuss how it happened. Not me, that was for sure, and not   
Sam. Not Josh, who was nursing very swollen knuckles. He scowled, holding his   
injured hand aloft, bringing up the rear as we trudged into the Oval Office. 

CJ, however, didn't give a damn about how we felt. She was poised on the edge of   
the chair looking like an aggravated schoolteacher holding detention for three   
unruly charges. 

"This was supposed to be a good news day," she informed us as we sat opposite   
her, Sam and I on the little sofa and Josh in the chair next to us. "Some new   
ambassadors, a nice speech, me winning a prestigious award upon which not one   
person in this room has congratulated me." 

"Congratulations, CJ," Sam piped up. 

"Stow it, Samuel." 

"Hey, I'm not the one who--" 

"I don't care. I. Don't. Care." She took off her glasses and all but threw them   
down on her lap. "First I had to interrupt my celebration, solitary though it   
was, to ask a good man to deny himself a well-deserved honor because of   
political expediency. Then I came home to find that we've given a spanking to   
the environmentalists, for which reason you and Toby aren't speaking to one   
another. Now I'm in the Oval Office waiting for the President to eviscerate our   
very own grand prize winner, Josh Lyman, who outshone all of us when he decked   
the new British Ambassador to the United States in a bar brawl." 

"He was pawing her," Josh groused, holding up his swollen hand. "And isn't   
anyone concerned about my, you know, injury?" 

CJ looked as if she were on the edge of either an epiphany or a nervous   
breakdown. She pointed a long, thin finger at me. The Ghost of Press Secretaries   
Past. 

"You." 

"Me?" I put my hand over my heart. "I was just sitting there!" 

"You." 

I let out a sigh. "Me." 

"You." 

"Even though I was just sitting there, talking to Sam?" 

"You weren't talking to me, you were remarking--" 

"Shut up, the two of you. Toby." 

Okay, so it wasn't the epiphany, it was the nervous breakdown. And I was   
helpless when CJ pointed that damn finger at me again. 

"Talk." 

*** 

We might have sat there the entire night, nursing beers and grudges. The bar was   
dark, almost as dark as Sam's glower, and there wasn't much going on. People   
from the reception drifted by in twos and threes, some of the women flying solo   
in their fluttering cocktail dresses. Sam must have been both plowed and   
depressed because even the gauziest social butterflies didn't attract his   
attention. 

After a while, some of the new ambassadors and their entourages passed us. Sam's   
funk seemed to give way to curiosity when he saw me nod and smile to the   
un-surnamed Caprice. "Who's that?" 

"Marbury's aide, God help her. I met her for a few minutes just before I came   
here." 

"Leo must be having ten kinds of heart attack." 

"He won't be the only one," I sighed as I caught sight of Marbury himself,   
leading Donna into the room with her arm through his. He stopped a waitress and   
got champagne for them both. From the flush on Donna's face, I surmised that   
this wasn't her first glass of the evening. 

I looked over Sam's shoulder, my impending-debacle radar sending me some pretty   
clear warning signals. Sam watched me, unsmiling, eyes bleary, as he finally   
succumbed. "What?" 

"Marbury. He's got Donna in his headlights." 

That was enough to get Sam to turn around. He surveyed the scene, grunted into   
his Heineken, then turned away again. "Josh says she's trying to get him to   
introduce her to someone who'll keep her in the manner to which she hopes to   
become accustomed." 

That was the most he'd said to me in twenty minutes. And he was almost smiling. 

"I don't think he's passing her along anytime soon. He's got his hands on her   
shoulders, Sam. Both of 'em." 

"Both hands, or both shoulders?" 

I gave him a dirty look. "They're going into the other room." 

"What other room?" Sam looked interested in spite of himself. "You mean the   
place in back for private…oh, God." He twisted in his chair. "Toby. We have to   
stop him." 

"I don't think so, buddy." Sam didn't react to the term. "Donna's a big girl.   
You don't get between big girls and their prizes, Sam. Ever." 

"Sexist much, Toby? Besides, he's not a prize, he's a...a...roué...and   
Donna's..." Whether from the beers or the surprise, he seemed to be having   
trouble stringing words together. 

"Roué? She's not sixteen going on seventeen." 

"What if it were CJ? Would you just sit here--" 

"Sam. Don't get into this. Don't." 

"She's a friend." 

"Not if you go in there and try to...I dunno, defend her honor. Won't work.   
She'll hate you, call you a chauvinist, give you even more grief, and then   
someone will tell Josh and he'll do God knows what in some pathetic attempt at   
revenge." 

"Toby, that's…it's…wow." He shook his head. "Good thing Josh isn't…oh, crap." 

In the years I've known Josh Lyman, he has never appeared on cue. Never. But he   
did tonight, of all nights, looking rumpled and weary, somehow only a drink or   
two behind us even though he had just gotten here. "Hey," he greeted us,   
reaching for my beer. I grabbed it away from him. 

"Know what, Josh?" Sam put in, way too brightly. "Let's go to my place, watch   
the tape of the game, not have to pay seven bucks for a beer." 

Josh's brow furrowed and he cocked his head to one side. "What game?" 

"I dunno, some game. My VCR's been running since, like, 1997." 

"Sam, what the hell?" Josh put his hands on his hips. "What're you trying to get   
me not to look at?" 

In hindsight, I should've said that the really cute brunette over by the bar was   
staring at him. Or that there were three Congressional aides sitting around   
saying he didn't have any political currency. Or that, I don't know, his fly was   
open. 

Instead, I made the mistake of looking in the direction Sam was trying to get   
Josh to avoid, and seconds later we were all standing in the doorway of the   
private room. Well, not so much in the doorway, because the door was shut. But   
we were there, and we were listening to dulcet, seductive, upper-class English. 

"No one will bother us here, Donna. No one will know." 

"Your Lordship..." 

"My title is for the White House. Right now it's just you and me, and I'm just   
John." 

I stole a glance at Josh. Huh. I never knew anyone could, in reality, turn   
green. 

We heard Donna's voice, thin and tremulous. "John, I don't know what to say." 

Cloth rustled, and Marbury's next words were gentle. "Hush, my dear, it's all   
right." 

Josh mimed putting three fingers down his throat. Sam managed to turn the   
doorknob just a little, and the three of us peeked in. I'm not sure which of us   
saw them first, but there he was, holding Donna in his arms and pressing his   
lips to her forehead. 

"Bella Donna," he whispered. 

That was when all hell broke loose. Josh lunged past Sam and me, yanked Donna   
out of harm's way, and planted a truly impressive right hook on the lantern jaw   
of Lord John Marbury. 

*** 

"So I grabbed Josh, Sam tried to grab Donna but she ran faster than we did, and   
we beat it the hell out of there through the back door," I said in conclusion. 

CJ was unimpressed. "His Lordship is being checked out by the First Lady. Lucky   
for you, Josh, he's not pressing charges and he didn't need to go to the   
hospital. But what on earth made you think--" 

"I can understand completely what made him think," we heard as the door opened.   
Marbury came in first, holding an ice pack to his face, and behind him were the   
First Lady and the President. 

We all got up. 

"Sit down, everybody." 

We all sat down. 

The President took his seat behind the desk, head lowered, and if I didn't know   
better I'd have thought he was trying not to laugh. Lord Marbury sat next to CJ,   
and Mrs. Bartlet hovered over Josh, who was not looking her in the eye. 

"His Lordship's jaw isn't broken, just bruised," she told him. "You have a   
pretty manly swing, there, my friend, even though you haven't got a clue when or   
upon whom to use it. Let's see that hand." Josh held it out for inspection. "You   
could use some ice, but it'll be okay by morning." 

"No harm done, then," Lord Marbury said, his voice surprisingly cheerful. 

"Except what I'm going to have to untangle in the press," CJ warned. 

"There weren't any cameras about, Claudia Jean." Marbury's voice was calm and   
smooth. "What happened, happened in private. I say we just shake hands and be   
done with it - what do you say, Josh?" 

Josh cradled his injured hand. "Can't I just wave from a distance?" 

"I understand your hostility better than you know," Marbury said, leaning   
forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped. "But I also know   
that what you thought you saw wasn't what actually happened." 

Josh hunched his shoulders. He looked down at the floor for a moment, then back   
up at Marbury. "You had your arms around her." 

"I did." 

"You kissed her." 

"On the forehead." 

"How do I know that was the first one?" 

"It was the first, the last, the only. And not because I was too inebriated to   
be completely enchanted by her loveliness and her wit, because I was. Utterly.   
As would any man." 

"This is really more information--" 

"Josh, think of me what you will, but I have never taken advantage of a lady in   
distress." 

If we were cartoons, then there'd have been those long curved lines behind our   
heads indicating rapid movement. 

"Dis...distress?" 

"Earlier today, Josh, when I said that the prayers of millions were answered, I   
ought to have said 'a million and one.' Yes, I was fortunate enough to have been   
in the company of a delightful young woman. And it's true that there was some   
mildly flirtatious discussion of royal love. But when I spirited her away from   
the reception, it was because she was becoming more and more forlorn and I   
thought she needed a change of scenery." 

The nickel dropped for me at that point but Sam, to mix a metaphor, was still   
wandering in the wilderness with Josh. "Your Lordship, excuse me, but I still   
don't see why...you know, I should just stop and let you finish." 

"Thank you. As I was saying, the conversation drifted from light subjects to a   
rather more serious one: your misfortune, Josh, and the months that followed." 

Josh's mouth flopped open and stayed there. He looked like a particularly   
slow-witted flounder. 

Marbury continued. "Anyway, the combined effect of the crowd, the champagne, and   
some rather painful memories brought her to a fairly melancholy state. I   
happened to remember the little private chamber alongside the bar, so I brought   
her there, that she mightn't be embarrassed by her tears." 

"Until we came along and embarrassed her with something worse," Sam sighed. 

"I wasn't going to say that, but I shall hardly deny you the pleasure of doing   
so." Marbury leaned toward Josh. "Every word she said was about you, Josh. About   
how much you suffered, how far you've come in healing. How terrified she had   
been of losing you." 

Josh had the grace to blush. He scrubbed at his eyes with the knuckles of his   
uninjured hand, then sat blinking up at the lights. "I thought you were hitting   
on her." Marbury, to the manner born, sat quietly and let Josh work it out in   
his head. His head that, I might add, I wanted to crush like a flea. 

Sam did his mental calculations aloud. "You said it was private, that no one   
would know...that she was crying...you said it was all right...'hush, my   
dear'..." 

"Wow," Josh murmured. "I'm an idiot." 

No one refuted the claim. 

"It was a gentlemanly gesture, Josh, if a rather painful one." Marbury rubbed   
the growing bruise. "I've no doubt that you meant well. Miss Moss, on the other   
hand--" 

"Oh, hell. Donna." Josh grabbed the armrest of the chair, immediately regretted   
it, and hissed in pain. "Where is she?" 

"Leo's office," said the First Lady. "And she's not what you'd call a happy   
camper." 

"I am...so...sorry," Josh breathed, looking up at the ceiling. "I should go   
apologize to her." 

"Josh, if you have the sense God gave a goat, then you'll leave her be until   
morning." These were the first words the President had spoken since telling us   
all to sit down. 

Evidently Josh didn't have the sense God gave a goat, not that any of us   
expected anything different. "Sir, all due respect...I gotta go." 

The President dismissed him with a wave of his hand. 

The rest of us shifted uncomfortably in our chairs. 

"Oh, get out, the lot of you," he groaned, and we - including the First Lady -   
moved to Leo's doorway. 

"We're spending a lot of time doing this doorway thing, tonight," Sam commented.   
We all scowled at him. 

Josh's head was bowed, and whatever he was saying to his assistant was too soft   
for us to hear. Donna reached out and placed the palm of her hand flat on his   
chest, where the bullet had struck him. 

CJ whimpered, whether from being deeply moved or out of fear of the press corps,   
I wasn't sure. But the sound made Josh lift his head, smile, and mouth an   
apology to Lord Marbury. 

As we tiptoed away from the scene, Sam turned to me. "Belladonna's actually a   
poisonous plant, you know." 

"Sam." 

"Its properties include--" 

"Sam." 

"It might be seen as an environmental hazard. Maybe we should do a speech about   
it." Sam stopped in his tracks, trying to glare at me, to rekindle the evening's   
resentment, but it was too late, and before we knew it we were all laughing. 

Even Josh and Donna, when they re-emerged with damp eyes and glowing smiles. 

"I'll share this," Lord Marbury offered as he passed his ice pack to Josh. "And,   
perhaps, a drink?" 

CJ froze and stared imploringly at Josh, who lifted an eyebrow as he replied,   
"How about going downstairs for coffee?" 

"Excellent plan." Marbury offered Donna his arm. Josh, after a few   
uncomprehending seconds, did the same. 

"I know the way, thanks," Donna said, sweeping past them both with a defiant   
toss of her head. 

"I love you!" CJ called after her as Mrs. Bartlet applauded. 

We stood there for a moment before Lord Marbury gestured grandly to Josh. "After   
you." 

And so it was that Josh, as always, led us to the Mess. 

***   
END   
*** 

Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas, Barbara!   
With thanks to Ria for finding Tense!Bunnies and other bizarre misdemeanors. 

Comments are welcome at marguerite@swbell.net. 

Back to West Wing.   
  
  
  
  
  



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